Please be advised that this short story gets crazy pretty quickly. It contains extreme and unrealistic (but consensual) cervical insertions and extractions, which I could not find proper tags for.
Still here? Enjoy!
I had mentally braced myself for a catfish, but I've never had a first date go so well. Katrina is not a result of skillful picture editing; her sparkling blue eyes, bright smile, swooping blonde hair, and perfect body are as advertised. She would still score 10/10 without the disproportionally large breasts, like acing an exam and nailing the bonus question. My follow-up potential concern was a kidney-stealing boyfriend tailing my car, but she was gorgeous enough to take a chance.
I felt more confident about the safety of my kidneys as the evening progressed. Katrina’s personality completely destroyed any bait bimbo prejudice. We had a wonderful evening full of engaging conversation and quick-witted humor. I would have taken it slow but, when asked me to take a shower while she made herself comfortable in my bedroom, I let things happen fast.
I come out of the shower to a goddess’ backside. Leaning against my bed, legs spread shoulder-wide, Katrina has lost her dress, lost her panties, and taken a tube of aloe gel out of her clutch bag to place stately on the bed. Anal is the first thing on my mind when see that perfect bubble butt swaying invitingly and the suggested lubrication, but I would never dare suggest such an impure act on a first date. Her way to drive the point home is to spread one cheek aside, make sucking sounds on her finger, and push that slick digit into the little horizontally stretched orifice. That slender finger looks snug and comfy in there. My growing erection takes care of dropping the loose towel around my waist and I move in.
A butt like that is an absolute privilege to penetrate, but I’m nervous about exposing my lack of experience. This is my first foray into the tight, warm, forbidden hole, but Katrina’s moans encourage me deeper and deeper, then harder and harder until I’m slapping my crotch on those jiggly cheeks with suction sounds on the way out and squirting sounds on the way in. Whenever I skip a beat or take a readjusting break, I feel her rectum masticating my cock, begging me to stay in there forever.
l can’t believe how lucky I am. If those soft breasts aren’t real, they’re fooling every sensory cell in my hands. Again, I’m not the one who suggested I squeeze those puppies from behind and use the tight grip to fuck my date harder. Those were her words. Katrina’s instructions have led to nothing but unbridled pleasure so far, so I gladly obey.
It’s coming, my first ejaculation deep inside a girl’s asshole. By the tightening grip of her ass, crescendo of her moans, and restlessness of her legs, she’s cumming too. This is the greatest moment of my life. Fuck, have I been squeezing her breasts too hard in the heat of the moment? My hands let go of the plump melons and glide down her chest with no particular destination in mind. I don’t get far.
“Keep your hands on my...” she starts.
I immediately recoil at the curve of a gigantic belly bump. I’m still anally attached so I don’t step away. I put my hands on her shoulders once the shock wears off.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, mortified she might think I find her pregnant belly gross. I was simply surprised; her slim figure gave no indication of late-term pregnancy from behind. The anal sex makes sense in this deceiving context. But I’m not against a little baggage, especially when it puts a girl like that in my league.
“It’s OK. I should have told you. Can we talk about it later after you fuck my ass again?” She bends lower over my bed, giving me a new angle and a surge of arousal.
“You’re just full of good ideas tonight.”
“It’s not the only thing I’m full of anymore,” Katrina says, possibly with a wink.
This sex bomb is giving me the stamina of my teenage years. I pound that sperm-lubricated hole with a balls-deep thrust but pause at the destination. Wait...
I remember watching her walk from her door to my car, jacket unzipped. My first live sighting of her bouncing breasts is a vivid memory forever ingrained in the spank bank corner of my mind. Amazing as it was, no rack could have distracted me from overdue triplets in an otherwise slim body. And I’m only saying triplets because I don’t know what the bigger batches are called. From what my hands felt, you could have hosted a tea party on that shelf of a belly.
“I can take over if you’re tired.” Katrina begins milking my cock with a slow twerking motion of her perfect ass. It is a very effective cure against overthinking.
“Fuck, you’re so amazing.” I can see a psychiatrist for my hallucinations later. My hands long for the satin touch of her breasts and I cannot control them. They force me to lean against Katrina’s back and sink my fingers into her plump marshmallows again. Her belly, propped up by the bed, pushes against my tit-massaging hand.
Normally, when a woman gives me a standing lap dance, I’m looking at the groove of her spine, her dancing hair, her slender neck, or down at the waves her butt makes when it connects with my crotch. But these weird false memories have me zoning out, and that’s how I notice that my dresser looks different. With butt-fucking on autopilot, I ponder what seems so out of place.
Oh yeah, kind of obvious, isn’t it? There’s nothing on it. I keep things on my dresser for sure: deodorant, my glasses case, my LeBron James Funko. Hell, I’m pretty convinced there’s usually a lamp because I read with that lamp. And where’s the book I read with my lamp?!
“Did you clean my room?” I understand it’s a turnoff to be grumbled at like an overbearing mother in the middle of anal sex, but I’m too weirded out to wait. I usually leave clothes on the floor, too. Gone.
“Aww, don’t stop. You must be so close. Yeah, I did a little bit of tidying up, that’s all.”
I am so close but now my too-good-to-be-true concerns are back and I don’t think I can go on. Fighting against every instinct, I slowly and carefully (considering the nature of the act) pull my angry member away from its warm embrace. My jizz-coated cock isn’t the only thing that plops out of Katrina’s body. Dangling between her legs, the plug of a power cord sways.
“This is a... tampon string,” she stammers, shoving it back in with several pushes of her finger. “It’s a big flow day so I need the heavy-duty kind.”
Pregnant women still have their period? I want to believe. I want to go back to my perfect evening. Then a series of restaurant flashbacks hit me like machine gun fire.
“Can I have a set of utensils?”
“Excuse me, I didn’t get utensils.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to bother you. I didn’t get any utensils.”
“No, we never got that bottle of wine. Just a bucket of ice.”
She asked three different waiters for silverware and I remember each of them complying with her request. The wine bottle... I could swear it was on the ice before I visited the restroom. The sommelier was confused too.
“If my body grosses you out, I can leave.” Katrina turns around to show an angry pout poorly masking her distress. My heart breaks. Also, this is my first full-frontal sight of Katrina. She’s prettier than ever despite the beachball belly.
“There’s nothing you could do to gross me out," I say. "I’m just trying to piece some stuff together in my head...” Shit, a new flashback. When I came out of the shower. There was something different about the vanity that I was too horny to investigate. “I just want to check on something. I’ll be right back.”
“No, don’t leave. Let’s just pick up where we left off.”
“I’ll be just a second.” I rush to the bathroom, fully ready to prove myself crazy, and come back to ride that ass until the break of dawn. Imagine my disappointment when I discover that I’m sane. My electric razor is missing. So is the metal cup that holds my toothbrush. And my toothbrush.
She’s on the verge of tears when I come back to the bedroom. I avert the puppy-dog eyes to remain firm. “Katrina, you need to tell me where my things are and why you’re using my reading lamp cord as a tampon. No excuses, please. Just the truth.”
She forces her eyebrows into an affront, but, like a held breath, she can’t keep it the look forever. Katrina breaks into a million pieces in my arms. “It’s not just the cord. It’s the whole lamp,” she sobs.
“What?”
“They call it cervical kleptomania. If I see something I can hide in my... in nature’s pocket, I can’t help myself. I’ve been getting away with it for years. But I really thought I could keep it under control tonight. I really wanted you to want to see me again.”
Red flags or not, I’m still giddy about a babe like that wanting another date with me. “I had a great time with you and I'm not against doing it again. But you’re still not being honest with me. You can’t have my lamp and a wine bottle and LeBron in your pussy. That’s just...”
“I don’t know what a lebron is but everything missing is in there. I used your clothes and towels to line my womb and smooth the edges when it became clear I overdid it. I was hoping to have so much backdoor sex from behind that you’d eventually collapse on the bed and fall asleep. Maybe then I could have worked up the will to put all your stuff back, except maybe the toothbrush. I’ll buy you a new toothbrush.”
“So you’re saying that if I pull on this...” I pinch the ground pin of my lamp’s cord poking out of pussy. The tiniest tug makes her pussy contract, so I wait for her confirmation.
She seems apprehensive but greenlights the idea with a nod after climbing onto the bed and placing her feet against the posts like the stirrups of a procedure chair.
I’m already amazed at finding six feet of insulated wire folded in there, so imagine my shock when I feel a strong resistance to my pull from deep inside. Almost as if she really had a desk lamp in her womb. “Are you OK?” I ask Katrina.
She is moaning through clenched teeth. “Y-yes. My cervix will dilate if you pull hard enough. It’s intense for me but don’t stop. I want to give you back your stuff and there’s no other way.”
Jesus... Pulling on the power cord was like fighting a dog for its toy. Katrina acts exorcized, even squeezing her own breasts as a stress release.
We both gasp and stare breathlessly at her pussy when the white saucer pops out of her cervix. Shocked as I am, I need to see this through. The moans start again an octave higher as I force the rigid lampshade to follow through the warped opening of her uterus. After 10 minutes of labor, Katrina gives birth to a healthy Pixar lamp baby. I’m suddenly glad I went with a plastic LED lightbulb. Can’t say I made that decision based on the likeliness to shatter inside a woman’s baby oven.
“Well, all I can say right now is that I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”
Katrina smiles for the first time since the dramatic kleptomania reveal. “You are fully forgiven. Mine is a bigger ask, but... Do you think you might be able to forgive me for 'borrowing' all your things? Doesn’t have to be right away.”
“You owe me sooo many dates for this stunt.” It sounded like I was holding her hostage so I added: “If you’re up for it.”
“I’m up for a lot of things once I lose the tummy weight.”
“Yeah? How do we do this now that I don’t have anything to pull on?”
With a shrug of apology, Katrina tells me to go in deep with my hands. It’s a simple instruction that takes my brain a few seconds to wrap around.
I wish I could turn off my erection but it's hard as a rock that I penetrate the slightly gaped pussy opening with pinched fingers. In no time, I’m up to my elbow, wearing her cervix like a wristwatch, and fumbling around in her inner sanctum. It’s full of round things, soft things, pointy things. I start with the easiest thing to grab: the leg of a pair of jeans. It comes out smoother than a lamp but with no less moaning from my fisted date.
My hand goes in and out of her tight birth canal so many times that I have to switch arms when it gets numb. To a large pile of my slimy belongings (I’ll probably throw away that toothbrush and maybe the paperback novel depending on how it dries), I can finally add the restaurant’s silverware and a large bottle of wine I had to use two hands on the neck to pull out. We can open it later.
After quickly washing my arms, I lie down with Katrina, holding her tight while she shakes off the tremors of this intense experience. Easier in than out, apparently.
“Let me know what I can do to help,” I say softly. “I can pack away every insertable thing I own if you want to go cold turkey. I’ll hold your hand at the grocery store. Or, heck, if you don’t want to stop, I can simply keep you away from situations that would get you in trouble.”
“Like what?” She’s smiling that addictive smile again.
“Like I’m thinking we order in next time.”
Katrina hugs me and I feel her breasts squish against my chest.
My cock takes over the vocal cords. “Now I distinctly remember you saying something about picking up where we left off. Is that still in the cards or do you want to take it easy after all the orifice traffic?”
Katrina giggles at me. “I also said I wanted you to fuck my ass until you collapsed from exhaustion on the bed. Is that still in the cards?”
“Oh abso-lutely,” I say, switching places to land between her legs. But that probably won’t happen until morningAHHOLYFUCK!” As I’m lining up my shot, something cold and wet pokes and sniffs my hand. I’m assaulted by another lightning round of flashbacks from when we passed a pet shop on our walk toward the restaurant.
“Oh, he’s so cute!”
“Let’s go in to see if we’re allowed to pet him.”
“Oh, no! The doggie ran away to the back of the store. You didn’t see that? We should go if we don't want to be late. I’m sure they’ll find him.”